A
middle-aged schoolteacher goes to a vegetable shop. The unsuspecting vendor invites him warmly,
expecting a brief and productive interaction.
Little does the shop owner know that the teacher is a worldly-wise man
who will investigate every piece of produce that he will purchase. Anticipation turns into exasperation soon,
with the owner looking to desperately get rid of the teacher from the premises. Zinger after memorable zinger follows. Here is the catch: the hero of this story is
not the shopkeeper. It is the teacher
who is the butt of the jokes. The film,
of course, is “Mundhanai Mudichu.” The
teacher – also the writer-director – is K Bhagyaraj, who sadly passed away last week. Many tributes have pointed out how he played
the common man whose foibles and idiosyncrasies were the focal points of his
films. A persona that was disarming and
charming in its own manner. But what I
wish to focus on is K Bhagyaraj, the writer.
Bhagyaraj, as a writer, was a purist. To him, the script and screenplay were sacrosanct. Everything related to the film was in service of that. It was evident in how in most of his films, the female lead always had a meaty role, sometimes overshadowing him. It was seen in the way character actors and comedians (such as the aforementioned shopkeeper) stole the scene from right under his nose. The word “stole” seems wrong because of the fact that he was the one who wrote the scene in the first place! The strong anchoring to plot meant that even in his lesser films, there was never really a problem with the flow of scenes or questionable logic. I cannot remember a Bhagyaraj film that had me bored.
“Mundhanai
Mudichu” is seen as the pinnacle of his career, given the universal critical
acclaim and the stunning box office success.
But to me, his best work was in the period prior. He had an amazing run in the early 1980s
where he made a variety of films at a fast clip, all memorable in their own
way. My favorite film of his is not
“Mundhanai Mudichu.” It is “Mouna
GeethangaL.”
“Mouna
GeethangaL” was arguably the first film in Tamil cinema that offered a lifelike,
microscopic view of a newly married couple, replete with their mutual
affection, desires and even mischief.
There was something absolutely real in the conversations between
Bhagyaraj and that acting powerhouse, Saritha.
There is a sequence where Bhagyaraj makes a list of women in their
neighborhood, trying to proclaim that he is a squeaky-clean man, not attracted
by any of them! Pat comes a stinging
question from Saritha, “How come you know all these details of these
women?!” A hilarious argument
ensues. The laughs are non-stop. But if you watch the scene closely, not one
laugh feels manufactured. So organic is
the humor.
The affair
aspect of “Mouna GeethangaL” seems a bit regressive in its handling when viewed
now. But even then, the strength of
Saritha’s character is undeniable. She
is no easy pushover – far from it, in fact.
She probably had more agency than most female leads back in the
day. That was the thing about
Bhagyaraj’s women characters. They
seemed to have been burdened with flawed, idiosyncratic men, whom they had to
forgive and reform. But on the flip
side, they ended up having the best author-backed role in the films and walked
away with all the laurels.
Much has
been written about his stint in politics.
I am largely apolitical. So, it
is not something that I wish to dwell on.
But I do think that his foray into politics in the late 80s influenced
his writing choices a bit. Political
innuendos and references made their way into the narratives. Photographs of MGR and references to his
political leanings featured in scenes and song lines. For someone who had been accustomed to his almost
ruthless adherence to script and screenplay, I didn’t quite enjoy these
distractions. Thankfully, this was short
lived. And he recovered form in the
early 90s with films more in his style such as “Sundara Gandam” and “Rasukutty.”
(As an aside, you have not lived until you have heard Bhanupriya’s rendition of
“Devane…” in the former film. It is
arguably Bhagyaraj’s most hilarious scene ever.)
His last
few films were varied in terms of quality and box office success. But by then, he had built up a filmography
that very few in Tamil cinema can boast of.
Even if there was not the prolificity of his heyday, one thing remained
constant – his respect for writers and the art of writing. During his peak years, he was arguably the only
filmmaker who had a title credit for his story discussion group which included
veterans like Kalaignanam and Thooyavan.
Many filmmakers have recounted anecdotes of his painstaking story
discussions where every sequence would be ground to the finest detail. In his later years, he was actively involved
in the writers’ association. And was known
to have had a sense of equitability towards budding story writers over their intellectual
rights. In some way, shape or form, the
writer in him was always alive.
Alas, the writer
is no more. But the stamp left by his ink
on Tamil cinema will be indelible for years to come. May you rest in peace, Bhagyaraj Sir.
